


Fevers to Eat

by Mithen



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events on Gauda Prime, Vila finds himself enlisted by Jenna to find Avon--but for what purpose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fevers to Eat

_That, it seems, is the impossibility._

_This being free.  What would the dark_

_Do without fevers to eat?_

_What would the light_

_Do without eyes to knife, what would he_

_Do, do, do without me?_

_Sylvia Plath, "The Jailer"_

1.

The power had gone off, but emergency lights lit the room with a sullen red glow.  In the distance, explosions sounded, but the room itself was silent.  None of the many bodies on the ground stirred.

  


A woman dressed in black entered the room cautiously.  Ignoring the corpses in Federation uniforms, she knelt briefly next to the red-haired man sprawled in the doorway, then moved toward the center of the room.  On a small flight of stairs lay a young man, his face smudged with blood and shockingly young in death.  Near him was a golden-haired woman, her limbs twisted beneath her, her eyes still open in surprise.

  


The woman started to move toward the blonde, but stooped abruptly as she found the man lying on his back in the center of the room, his shirt stained almost black in the red light.  She stared for some time at the ruin of his chest, then looked up to his face.  His half-open eyes stared blankly at the ceiling;  with a sudden, impulsive motion she tried to close them, but the eyelids would not move and she snatched her hand away with a muffled sound that may have been a curse or a sob.  At the sound, there was a slight motion on the far side of the room, and the woman whirled, pulling her gun.  Slowly she advanced toward a couple of Federation bodies, but soon realized that the motion was coming from beneath them.  Cautiously she nudged the bodies aside to reveal a thin man in a gray jumpsuit.  Sighing slightly, she put her gun away and bent to feel the survivor's pulse.  At the touch he opened his eyes and stared at her with a strange, unfocused look.

  


"Hullo, Jenna," he said weakly.  "Would you be a dear and convince Cally to unlock the soma cabinet?  I've just had the most horrible--" He broke off and swallowed convulsively, closing his eyes again. Then he lifted himself on his elbow with a grimace and tried to look around, but Jenna caught him by the shoulders.

  


"Don't," she said.  "Don't look."  The thief stopped and seemed to really see her this time.  

  


"Jenna.  It really is you," he said.

  


She simply nodded, then asked, "Do you think you can move?"

  


Gingerly, Vila started to pull himself up.  "I think so," he decided.  "I'd never been shot before, if you can believe it, and it  _*hurt,*_ and I remembered my motto, you know:  &gt; Discretion is the better part of Vila,' especially after \-- " He cut off sharply and swallowed hard again, looking at Jenna, but the smuggler's face revealed nothing and he didn't finish the sentence.

  


As they moved together toward the exit, Vila turned one last time.  "Don't look back, Vila," murmured Jenna, but he cast one last glance over the room before turning toward the door with a shudder.

  


Jenna didn't.

2.

  


Jenna strode through the foggy woods with Vila hobbling a few paces behind her.  He decided he was not going to complain about the pace, but when he bit back a groan Jenna slowed down a little.  In the distance, explosions continued to sound, and sometimes the sound of gunfire echoed eerily though the mist.  They had been walking for hours now.

  


Panting a bit, he drew closer to the smuggler and said softly, "Jenna, where are we going?  Somewhere safe, I hope?"

  


"My shuttle is hidden just over there," she answered, angling her blonde head a bit to the left.

  


"Your shuttle?  Uh, wait," Vila fought an increasing sense of disorientation.  It had been a disorienting day.  "Why do you have a shuttle hidden in the woods?  Not that it isn't a grand idea to have a getaway vehicle ready, but it doesn't seem like...well, like you.  More like me," he added under his breath.

  


Jenna stopped and gave him an appraising look.  "I'm not" she said, paused for a second and went on, "I wasn't with Blake anymore.  I came here with an associate to find him.  We got split up, but we agreed to meet back here at the shuttle."  Vila opened his mouth to ask one of the thousand questions in his head, but there seemed to be too many to choose from and he just stood there with his mouth open.  It didn't seem to be his day for quick thinking.  "Anyway," Jenna went on, "it will be a lot safer to talk about it once we get off this damned planet."  She began to pick her way through the bracken again.  Vila followed, trying to make as few crashing noises as possible, but it was kind of difficult with a wounded side and a serious case of mental jetlag.  

  


When he finally spotted the shuttle and the slim figure lounging against it, he was relieved his reflexes seemed to be working fine--unlike his brain or body--as he dropped with a small squeak behind a nearby bush.  He tried to tell himself he had dropped into a crouch of panther-like grace and barely leashed power, but he suspected he had merely fallen on his ass.  The fact that his hands seemed to be shaking didn't help.

  


Jenna was at his side.  "What the hell is it?" she hissed.

  


Vila forced himself to speak quietly and coherently.  "That woman, that woman, she's the one who betrayed Blake," he choked.  "She's a Federation officer, she sold him out.  She killed Dayna," he added, trying to be clear.  Struck by a sudden, horrific thought, he gaped at Jenna \-- had she known this?  Had she been in on it?  Wasn't there  _*anyone*_ he could be safe with?  But before he could shape his thoughts into words, Jenna put a finger to her lips, then moved out of the bracken with her gun drawn.

  


"Why, Ros," said the dark-haired woman as she spotted the smuggler, "What's with the gun?"  She remained leaning against the side of the shuttle, but her posture had stiffened.

  


"Arlen.  Is it true?" Jenna asked.  "Did you kill Blake?"

  


The other woman's voice aimed for casual and failed entirely.  "Where would you have heard something like that?  I've been trying to find him just like you, but \-- " Apparently reading something in Jenna's eyes, she spread her empty hands out slowly to her sides and quirked a half-smile.  

  


Arlen slammed back against the shuttle and slid to the ground, leaving a smear of blood behind her,  her hands still outstretched and her eyes frozen open in surprise.  Jenna stepped up and pushed Arlen's body away from the shuttle with her foot, then gestured for Vila to come out of the bushes.  He stared at the bloodstained shuttle bulkhead, then managed to say, "Uh, thanks for believing me, I suppose."

  


Jenna shot him a glance as she put her gun away.  "Just get in the shuttle, Vila."

  


Vila managed to crawl into the passenger side of the shuttle, but the long walk, his injury, and the confusion of the day caught up with him suddenly, and as Jenna pulled the shuttle upward he spiraled downward into exhausted blackness.

3.

_   
_

_It was all going wrong.  It was all going wrong somehow.  This wasn't how it was supposed to happen._

_   
_

_"Have you betrayed us?  Have _ ** _*you_ ** _*...betrayed _ ** _*me_ ** _*?" Vila heard the agony in Avon's voice, agony that he had forgotten the man could even feel.  For so long Avon had been so careful to show that he didn't give a damn about anything at all, and now his voice revealed that he gave a damn, oh yes, he gave altogether too much of a damn, and Vila wanted to cry out something, to warn someone, but he couldn't seem to say anything at all._

_   
_

_"I set this all up," Blake was saying, while Vila struggled to find his voice, to move his feet, his hands, to do anything to stop the events unfolding in front of him.  He couldn't see Avon's face, but he didn't need to, as Blake said "I was waiting for _**_*you,_**_* Avon," and Vila finally managed to lurch into action, stumbling forward and stammering, "No no no, no Avon, don't, don't, _**_*please_****,*** _please Blake, look out, no, no." Babbling inanities, he staggered ahead, but Blake and Avon seemed to be so far away somehow, and he_ _couldn't get there in time, and Avon pulled the trigger.  And pulled the trigger.  And pulled the trigger.  And there was blood everywhere_

  


and Vila woke up sweating and disoriented, with Blake and Avon's names still echoing in the shuttle, and Jenna's hands white-knuckled on the controls.  There was a long silence in the shuttle while Jenna stared straight ahead and Vila tried to clear his head and think straight, wondering what exactly he had been yelling, how much he had given away, and how much he wanted to give away. 

  


Finally, Jenna said very softly, "I thought you said Arlen killed him."

  


Vila swallowed.  His throat was very dry.  He tried to remember what exactly he had said back there.  "I said, at least I meant to say, that she betrayed Blake.  I didn't say she actually, uh, killed him."  His voice was oddly raspy and hoarse.  He closed his eyes and prayed that Jenna wouldn't ask him for any more details.  He really wanted a drink.  Even water would be nice, but he didn't quite dare ask Jenna for something.  She didn't seem to be in a hostessing mood.

  


After a while, when no more difficult questions seemed to be coming, he slitted his eyes open a bit and studied the woman's profile.  She looked...tired, the thief thought with a pang.  There were lines drawn about her eyes and her mouth, of sorrow and pain rather than the incipient laugh lines she had had on the /Liberator./  Her outfit was black and severely functional, devoid of ornamentation.  As she turned to adjust a control, however, he saw a flash of metal at her throat and was somehow relieved to see she was still wearing her silver necklace from her days on the /Liberator./ 

_   
_

They flew in silence for a time, until the thief's curiosity got the best of him.  "We  _*are*_ going somewhere safe, aren't we?  Say we are, Jenna, be a sweetheart," he ventured in his most wheedling tones.

  


Jenna didn't smile, but there was a slight softening about her mouth that took some of the hardness from her face.  "As safe as anywhere can be in this universe," she answered.

  


Vila pulled a crestfallen face.  "I was hoping for better than that," he whined, trying to fall into old patterns, but Jenna ignored the invitation to banter.  She sighed suddenly, more to herself than at Vila, and squared her shoulders with a resigned air.

  


"A little over a year ago, I rigged up a flyer to self-destruct on autopilot so that it would seem I was on board at the time.  Then I went underground \-- even deeper underground," she amended wryly.  "I got in touch with some old smuggler contacts and set up a base on Lovus  where I could...conduct business on my own."

  


"So why'd you come back?"

  


"I had contacts in the Lovusan government.  I heard rumors that Commander Mida was invited to a warlord conference at some rebel base, enough to help me figure it out it had to be Avon.  After it fell through, I knew Avon would have to abandon the base and finally find Blake.  I wasn't sure if Blake knew about it, so I decided I had to come back and tell him."  

  


"Ah," said Vila lucidly.  "So...how did Blake feel about you deciding to fake your death and leave?"  It was probably risky ground, but he felt like he was missing something, a feeling compounded by Jenna's turning to stare at him.

  


"I didn't tell him, Vila.  That was...that was kind of the point, after all,"  _*You idiot_ ,* her tone seemed to add, but the thief was too shocked to care.

  


"You didn't tell him?  You ran out on Blake and went back to smuggling?" His voice cracked incredulously.  "You could have just told him you wanted out, you know.  He would have understood."

  


"Oh yes, that's true.  He would have been so  _*damned_ * understanding, and sorry, and hurt about it all, but go ahead Jenna, you're free."  The words were angry, but her tone was simply tired.  "No, I needed a more...final break.  Maybe Cally would understand," she said.

  


"Cally would have understood," he corrected her without thinking.

  


That conversation took the rest of the shuttle flight to the larger craft waiting above Gauda Prime's atmosphere.

4.

  


Aboard the sleek ship Jenna referred to as the  _/Hard Bargain_ / there was a crew of five people who greeted "Ros" with obvious relief and asked where Arlen was and who this guy was, and had she found Blake?  "Arlen was a Federation spy, Blake is dead, this is Vila," said Jenna.  Glances among the crew revealed that this explanation was a little too terse to satisfy, but they took their positions readily enough when Jenna said, "Set a course back to Lovos."  

  


"And a good thing, too," said a lanky blond man, adjusting some settings.  "Between dodging sensors and bluffing when we're detected, this has been touch and go at best.  I'll be glad to get away from here."

  


"We all will," murmured Jenna from her controls.  "Those of us who have, at least."

  


The smuggler ship departed the Gauda system with little incident; the crew seemed comfortable with the ship and each other, despite a fair amount of good-natured sniping between the blond navigator and a tawny-skinned woman who seemed to be in charge of weaponry.  Vila was surprised at the ease with which Jenna led the smugglers \-- not usually known as the best followers in the universe.  But they seemed to both respect and like her, teasing her good-naturedly until it became clear she was not in a mood to banter.  She must have been taking notes during her time with Blake, Vila figured.  He wished \-- well, never mind.   It seemed like a good idea to stay on the main deck and keep everyone company, but the group was pretty busy with security measures and he mostly seemed to get in the way.  When Jenna suggested she show him a room where he could lie down, he didn't argue with her, but followed her to a small, bare room with a few bunks.  "Get some rest," she said curtly, then left.  Vila laid down on one of the bunks and stared at the ceiling for a while.  Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

  


_It was all going wrong.  It was all going wrong somehow.  This wasn't how it was supposed to happen._ ..

  


Jenna was shaking him and someone was screaming.  He shut his mouth and the screaming stopped.  That's interesting, he thought confusedly, I can make people stop screaming by closing my mouth.  As he came fully awake, Jenna stopped shaking him, but remained holding on to his shoulders, then suddenly pulled him into an awkward hug, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him.  Then she moved to an opposite bunk and sat down, crossing her arms.  "So.  Why did he do it?" she asked levelly.

  


So much for tender comfort.  Vila gathered his thoughts; apparently it was his turn to be quizzed.  "I think...I don't think he could have been completely sane near the end."

  


Jenna lifted one eyebrow.  "And what makes you think that?"

  


"Tracking down a man, risking everything to find him, and then shooting him three times as he stands there unarmed?"  Jenna's mouth tightened and he added hastily, "It just...it just doesn't fit my idea of sanity, that's all."

  


"Maybe that's what he had in mind all along.  Hunting him down and killing him."

  


"No!" Vila found himself half-standing up from the bunk and dropped back down.  "No.  You'll just have to believe me on this one, Jenna.  I  _*know*_ he didn't want to kill Blake.  He just... did."

  


"That doesn't make any sense."

  


"I know it doesn't."  Vila sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  "I never claimed to understand Avon.  I don't think any of us did, except \-- " He stopped again and looked down at his hands.

  


"If he was mad, why did you stay with him?"

  


"I didn't say he was nuts, just that he wasn't quite sane."

  


"Semantics."

  


"Huh?"

  


"They're the same thing."

  


"No, they're not.  Not really."  His hands were quite fascinating.  "Maybe I was staying for the others.  They were just kids, really.  Tough kids, but kids.  You didn't even know them," he added with a flash of bitterness, glancing up.  "Just a few more bodies in the mess.  But they were my friends."  He dropped his eyes again.  "Sort of.  I couldn't leave them with  _*him.*_   He didn't give a damn about their lives."  He stopped and inhaled sharply.  "I mean, he was ready to chuck me out an airlock!"  The thief winced.  He had never told anyone about Malodaar, beyond some veiled references, and he had never even been able to figure out why.  _*Forget understanding Avon, I don't even understand myself most of the time._ *

  


He looked up to find Jenna looking at him with something close to a smile on her face.  "Vila, we were  _*all_ * ready to chuck you out an airlock at some point!"

  


Vila flinched.  "You don't understand," he said, more sharply than he had intended.  "You have no idea."  The expression on the smuggler's face disappeared before actually becoming a smile, and he wanted to take his words back.  For a second the old rapport had almost been there.  Even a connection based on insulting him would be better than nothing at all, Vila thought ruefully, but the moment was gone.    Before either could decide what to say next, the wall comm crackled.  "Ros," said a studiously casual voice, "We seem to have some pursuit ship problems up here.  Would you mind coming up?"

  


Jenna uncoiled from the bunk and was out the door, snapping an affirmative into the unit as she left.  Vila sighed.

  


Damn!  He'd forgotten to ask if they had anything to drink on this ship! 

5.

_   
_

_It was all going wrong.  It was all going wrong somehow.  This wasn't how it was supposed to happen._ ..

  


He woke up on his knees in the middle of his room at Lovos base, reaching vainly forward to shield or to warn or to stop people who weren't even there.  _*Sod it all_ ,* he thought irritably,  _*Am I going to become one of those dark, depressing, broody types who have recurring nightmares all the time?_ _To hell with that.*  _ He hadn't broken into the base's liquour cabinet in the twelve hours since they'd arrived here; it was about time he got started.

  


He was feeling much warmer and even something close to content a few hours later, when he looked up to see a couple of women in dark gray standing in front of him.  He blinked, and they coalesced into one Jenna, standing on the opposite side of the table with her arms akimbo and her head slightly tilted, looking at him.  Her new outfit was as plain as the black she had worn on Gauda Prime, and Vila heard himself saying, "Don't you wear colours anymore, Jenna?  Remember that pinkish one with the thingies on the shoulders?  I always thought it made you look rather like a flower."

  


Jenna made an unladylike snorting sound halfway between amusement and exasperation, and dropped into a chair on the other side of the table.  "I knew you'd manage this, but I was hoping you would wait until sunrise at least.  I need you sober, Vila."

  


"I don't see as you need me at all."

  


"Oh, but I do.  You and I are going to pay Avon a visit."

  


She caught him in mid-swallow and he choked, feeling the alcohol burn his throat.  "Avon's alive?"

  


"Did you see his body?"

  


As a matter of fact, no, he hadn't.  He just hadn't let himself think about it too much.

  


"He's in a Federation prison on a small moon in the Sonnin System.  It's only a moderate-security facility.  Apparently they don't even know who he is yet."

  


Vila took another big swig of his drink.  "Figures.  Last time, they tortured him for five days and he never even gave out his name.  Makes you about the information network in the Federation.  Honestly, no one had a *picture* of one of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy?"

  


"Avon tortured for five days?  Now, that sounds fun," Jenna said brightly, flashing teeth in something that in no way resembled a smile.

  


"Jenna...why are we going to find Avon?"

  


She gave him a level look.  "Orac.  I assume he didn't tell  _*you_ * where Orac was?"  

  


Vila shook his head.  "He went off on his own with it before we went into the compound.  I assumed he'd convinced it to shrink itself up again to hide it more easily \-- "

  


"Shrink itself up?  Again?"  

  


Jenna looked at him, and he grinned weakly, spreading his hands. 

  


When he didn't elaborate, Jenna continued.  "Anyway, I need Orac.  Avon knows where Orac is.  So, we pay Avon a visit."  She continued to meet the thief's eyes and lifted her blonde eyebrows innocently.  "Why Vila, what other reason could I possibly have to see Avon right now?"

  


Vila remembered the shock in Arlen's eyes and the vivid smear of blood her body left behind on the shuttle, and didn't know exactly how he felt.  "Um.  I...I don't think Avon would like to see me right now," he said carefully.

  


Jenna's eyes were hard.  "You know what, Vila?  I don't really care about Avon's need for privacy at the moment."  She stood up and walked around the table to stand behind him.  "Are you worried for him?  Worried for someone who killed an unarmed man in cold blood? How can you live with yourself, knowing that you helped him on his murderous rampage?"

  


Vila put the glass down hard on the table.  Suddenly he was tired of the whole thing.  "Tell you what, Jenna.  Sit down, have a drink with me, and we'll discuss the pros and cons of staying with a man you can't trust versus bugging out on a man you can trust, huh?"  Behind him, he heard a hissed intake of breath, but he didn't turn around.  Maybe she'd drop something on his head and he could finally get some sleep.

  


After a moment, he heard the clicking of her boot heels recede down the hall, leaving him alone.

6.

  


As the  _/Hard Bargain/_ lifted off from Lovos, Vila found himself back in the small crew's quarters.  Jenna had a wall panel lit up and was showing him blueprints of the prison facility.  Vila noted which doors he'd have to get open, but didn't pay much attention to the rest.  Basically, all these kinds of plans came down to two things \-- shooting people, and opening doors.  He counted on other people to do the former while he did the latter.

  


Vila smothered a sigh.  He hadn't had much to drink since Jenna had revealed her plan two days ago;  it hadn't helped anyway.  But all the preparations seemed to be going smoothly \-- these smugglers were amazingly organized, it was almost like a military operation \-- so again he was mostly just in the way.  He had indulged in a little friendly flirtation with the pretty golden-skinned woman and played some chess against himself, but he mainly felt rather superfluous.  He was almost looking forward to getting through some locks \-- not the getting shot at parts, but the locks promised a challenge.

  


" \-- then we'll make our way back to the shuttle and rendezvous with the  _/Hard Bargain_ ./  Vila, are you paying attention?"  She was wearing a close-fitting maroon jumpsuit today \-- at least it was a colour of some sort, for a change.  He realized she was waiting for an answer.

  


"Uh, yes, yes of course.  Sorry."    He searched for something to say to hide the fact he hadn't been listening.  "So your crew will be waiting for you?  They seem a pretty selfless sort of smugglers \-- breaking into prison is not usually a big money-making venture, after all..."  Jenna's hazel eyes met his patiently and suddenly he felt like an idiot.  More of an idiot.  "They're not smugglers of any sort, are they."  It came out as a statement rather than a question.  "You've got your own branch of the Rebellion here.  You were working for Blake even though you'd left him."

  


Jenna sat down next to him on the bunk.  She rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands, staring ahead at nothing.  "It wasn't the Cause that was the problem" \-- he could hear the capitalization \-- "It was the man."

  


Vila felt oddly indignant.  "Hey, I thought you...cared for Blake.  I know he cared for you.  Maybe he didn't always show it very well, but \-- " The woman cut him off with a shake of her head.

  


"Caring or not caring was never the issue."  She was groping for words, trying to articulate something she didn't seem to have fully worked out in her own head.  "He...wasn't the kind of man who...who could leave you much of yourself if you cared for him.  If he cared for you."  Vila made some movement and she continued hurriedly, "I don't mean it was something he did on purpose.  It was just something he was.  Like a supernova, or a quasar.  He could burn away pieces of you, if you got too close.  He wasn't...he wasn't  _*safe_ .*"

  


The thief took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady.  He hated discussions like this.  "I think maybe you understand Avon more than you'd like to admit."

  


He felt Jenna go still.  When she spoke, her voice had lost its musing quality and was steely again.  "With one small exception.  I didn't kill him."

  


Vila shook his head.  "I saw him when Gan died.  You did too.  Losing people didn't just hurt him, you know, it \-- in his heart, it--"

  


"It killed him," she finished.  In the silence that followed, he wondered where the airlocks were located on the  _/Hard Bargain._ /

  


After a moment, Jenna suddenly leaned against him slightly.  "Since when do you get to have all the last lines?"  Her voice was wry but he could hear a smile in it, and he decided not to add anything else.  Jenna jumped to her feet and walked to the door.  Before she left, she turned and said, "We'll be leaving the ship in six hours.  I suggest you make yourself ready."  As she disappeared down the hall, Vila sighed.  All of this still begged the question, what exactly was he making himself ready  _*for*?_

7.

  


"Hurry  _*up,_ *" hissed Jenna's voice from behind his shoulder, as he struggled with the lock. Things had gone smoothly so far, and now they were at the door of the cell that apparently held the object of their search.

  


"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying, trust me."  He pulled a different instrument from his belt and fiddled some more.  "See, the way I figure it, locks tend to be of two basic types: locks made by nervous people trying to keep themself safe, and locks made by bullies trying to control people. Nervous-people locks and bully-locks have different attitudes behind them, and of course, prison locks are almost always bully-locks, which take a certain amount of simple bullying back to get through\--"

  


_"*Vila_ ,* stop chattering and focus on the damn door!"

  


The thief leaned closer to the lock.  "I know I'm prattling, I prattle when I'm nervous and it helps me concentrate, believe it or not.  It gives me something to ignore while I focus on the lock, and that always helps quite a bit.  Being scared helps too, so I figure between the two things, I should have this door open about \-- " The door clicked satisfyingly " \-- now."

_   
_

Jenna kicked it open and entered the room.  After glancing down the corridor both ways, Vila backed in after her.

  


He turned around to find \-- of course \-- that Jenna had her gun out and pointed straight at the man sitting on the cot.  Avon was simply looking at her, his eyes half-closed but alert.  He didn't look like he'd been sleeping well lately, and Vila didn't know whether to feel sorry or gratified \-- after all, considering  _*he*_ hadn't been able to sleep, it would seem so terribly unfair if Avon had been sleeping well.

  


For a long moment, the three of them simply stood there as if in an endless tableau.  Vila knew he should do something, he just had no idea what.  As he tried to think of something to say, Jenna broke the silence.

  


"I loved him, you bastard," she said flatly.

  


Avon's eyes flickered and he looked like he was about to say something, but instead he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the concrete wall.  Incredibly, the ghost of a smile touched his lips.  "At least make it quick, then," he said. 

  


Jenna took a sharp, pained breath \-- and in that moment, Vila suddenly took a half step forward.  "You know," he said almost apologetically, "If Cally were here she'd say...uh...something really very profound."  This didn't seem to be a particularly helpful comment, but as so far there were still no gunshots and no blood, he gathered a little confidence.  "It would probably be about, um, about friendship, and trust, and revenge, and it would clear everything up like a charm and we could all leave here together."  He realized Jenna had turned her head to look at him and Avon had half-opened his eyes again, and waved his hands vaguely in a you-know-what-I-mean gesture.

  


Jenna didn't put her gun away, but some of the menace went out of the set of her shoulders.  Avon's eyebrows twitched upward slightly.  After a moment, the smuggler abruptly holstered her weapon and turned to the door.  With her back to the two men, she said, "Well, come along then."

  


"And re-join the glorious revolution?" Avon asked dryly.  He didn't move.  "I would prefer you just shoot me and go."

  


Jenna didn't turn around.  "He would want you to help," she said simply.

  


Vila glanced away from Jenna just in time to catch the sweet, rueful smile that lit Avon's face from within.  It didn't seem to be directed at either him or Jenna, and vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  Then Avon got up from the cot gingerly but without hesitation and stood behind Jenna's shoulder.  "No, he would have assumed that I would help.  No one will make that assumption again," he said almost gently.

  


Jenna tossed her hair over her shoulder to look at him and flashed him a brilliant smile.  "Well now," she drawled mockingly, "Only the three of us know how entirely untrustworthy you are, so it shouldn't be more of a problem than usual."

  


"I won't lead."

  


Jenna snorted.  "Did you hear *anybody* asking you to?"

  


Vila grimaced and waved his hands frantically to interrupt them as footsteps came down the corridor.  Jenna popped out of the cell, fired off two shots, and looked back in.  Vila caught his breath.  "I hate to interrupt a tender moment and all, but I think maybe we should leave before they notice we've got our hand in the cookie jar."  Avon and Jenna rolled their eyes in unison and the three of them began the process of breaking back out of the prison.

8.

  


Vila gripped the padded bench with nervous hands as Jenna punched at the shuttle's controls, entering the stolen access codes that would convince the prison computers they were a Federation vessel.  He didn't like shuttles, he thought for the thousandth time, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to distract Jenna.  His prattle might help him focus, but it had never seemed to help anyone else focus.  As the small craft soared free from the security zone around the prison moon, he let out a sigh which surprised him by turning into a large yawn.  Avon and Jenna turned around from their seats in the front to look at him, and he shrugged sheepishly.

  


The smuggler turned back and made a few adjustments to the console.  "I've set the coordinates to the /Hard Bargain/.  It will take us about eight hours to reach the rendezvous point," she said tightly.  "Avon, I'm turning the controls over to you for now."  She cut Avon off as he seemed about to protest, snapping, "Just *do it,* Avon, and don't argue with me!"  The tech raised his hands, fingers spread in a placating motion, and she pressed the buttons that moved control of the shuttle over to the other side of the panel.  When she was done, she leaned back in her seat and put her forearm over her eyes.  

  


It took Vila a moment to realize that she was crying, not because she was trying to stifle it, but because he had never heard the smuggler cry before.  In fact, he hadn't heard anyone cry for a long time.  Except himself.   He shifted uncomfortably on his bench, wondering what to do.  Avon, not surprisingly, didn't respond at all, merely fingering the shuttle controls absently.  It seemed odd to the thief to start crying *now,* when it actually looked like they might get out of this with their skins intact.  It must be some woman thing, he decided nervously.  As her tears started to wind down, the thief leaned forward between the two front seats and clapped a hand to each of the other's shoulders.  After a moment, Jenna reached over and gripped his hand so tightly he winced a little.  Avon did nothing, which \-- considering he hadn't shaken the hand off like a dead animal \-- was practically a sign of manic goodwill.  "So," Vila said heartily, "I'm glad that's all settled.  Now maybe the two of you can lighten up a bit and stop being so damn gloomy.  There's no point to moping forever, after all.  Not that *you* were ever much fun at the best of times, come to think of it," he added for Avon's benefit, earning himself an acid glare.

  


Jenna wiped her eyes with her free hand and smiled at him a little sadly.  "And are you going to get back to being your old self too, Vila?"

  


The thief whacked their shoulders again and sat back with a wide grin.  "What are you talking about?  I've been the same old fun-loving, harmless chap I ever was.  I don't let things eat at me like you brainy types."  He pitched his voice to his best pseudo-Alpha accent to add,  "I *do* think people who feel indebted to ghosts are so very tedious, don't you?"  Pleased to have the last word again, he yawned hugely and stretched out on the bench, falling asleep almost immediately.

  


He slept soundly, peacefully, dreamlessly, the whole eight hours to the rendezvous.

  



End file.
